


Meeting Upon an Impasse

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Brief Jealousy, Dark, First Meetings, Hitchhiking, I'm Sorry, Inappropriate Humor, Jealousy, Like only Charles Lee and James Reynolds, M/M, Mentions of Murder, Murderers, Nobody else dies/is mentioned to have died, Nobody is Dead, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-19 00:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15498336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "You're smart." Thomas observed with a small smile, approving of the quick deductions he was able to make from a mere three minutes of interaction. "It's a damn shame I'm going to kill you.""Is that so?" The man asked, lips quirked up into a small, sardonic smile. "Well, this is awkward. You see, I was planning on killing you."





	Meeting Upon an Impasse

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I'm running on coffee, less than 6 hours of sleep, and a lot of Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter fics. I am so sorry. I will yeet myself out the door and into a garbage can, where - oh, convenient! - this fic just so happens to live. #Plot twist #Emotional roller coaster

It was relatively late in the evening. The sun was cast far across the sky, shading the gaps between dark, glaring clouds with hues of stark oranges and contrasting cobalt. Enough light was provided, even with the rain that lashed onto earth and concrete. It wasn't unusual for rain in summer, but many had been caught unaware, scattering to find refuge.

This, in itself, wasn't a problem. If anything, rain made things easier, and people were far more agreeable when distracted. However, there weren't many cars, and the solitude necessary for what he planned to do. Despite the imperative yet advantageous seclusion, hitchhikers tended to opt for a more busy road - the motorway, most often - yet there were too many eyes, and all it took was one person with a good memory to see him. _Then_ there would be issues.

Despite the comforting familiarity of the sound of rain against metal, or the near isolation of driving at such a late time, Thomas was alert. His eyes would often stray to the left, finding virescent vegetation and little else. The trees that stretched overhead, oak limbs reaching upwards to skim against the sky, provided some shelter from the rain, yet it didn't prevent the occasional stray from pattering against his windshield.

He briefly considered turning on the radio, but knew that the connection would be rough at best, and that it wouldn't soothe frayed nerves. Thomas had patience, though. It would often take a few days to complete his search, and a month or so without success was not unheard of.

However, it appeared that today would follow no such trend; several meters down the road, a solitary figure stood, head tilted and staring up wearily at the sky, arms crossed and pulled firmly against his chest. He didn't seem to mind the rain, though his protective posture indicated lack of warmth.

This put him at an advantage. People in need of something were easier to deal with - whether that be heat, shelter, or even company.

Thomas slowed down as he approached, examining the man to see what would be his next action. The man finally seemed to notice him, glancing down from the sky to watch Thomas park in front of him.

The man opened the car door with one hand, the other clinging to a damp backpack, but made no move to get in, in spite of his shivering. The rain had caught him in the sudden downpour, clinging tightly to his shirt. His shoulders were tense, eyes watchful and remaining directly on Thomas's face, not even glancing around the interior of his car.

"You need a ride?" Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow at his rather defensive stance. This, in itself, was not uncommon. Hitchhikers often made a point on being cautious, yet Thomas prided himself on looking very trustworthy. It helped that he didn't have a pickup truck or anything else that Hollywood had stereotyped to be a danger sign.

The man regarded him for a few more seconds, then grinned, eyes remaining on him even as he pushed soaked hair out of his face. "If you would be so kind."

Thomas merely started the engine in response. The man took this as agreement, and promptly clambered in. He closed the door with a smooth click, but neglected to use a seatbelt - it displayed a readiness to run at the slightest hint of danger, and made Thomas painfully conscious of the knife resting in his pocket.

"So, where are you heading?" Thomas asked, deciding to wait a little longer, deciding to head down the road he had started on, the one that headed to New York. A few more minutes or so of small talk would be far more favorable than scaring the man off, and Thomas didn't want any of that sort of attention on him.

The man merely glanced up from the window, brown eyes disarmingly soft. He shrugged, offering a tiny, tired smile. "Anywhere is good."

"Anywhere?" Thomas repeated, offering the man a small frown as he glanced up from the road. "Running from something?"

His eyes flashed with wry mirth. "You could say that."

Thomas almost grinned at his statement, but refrained from doing so, opting to state, almost conversationally, "I'm going down by New York."

The man smiled at him again, but made no comment. His line of sight drifted to the window again. Thomas noticed the way he hugged his backpack close to his chest, fingers tracing up and down the fabric.

Thomas was struck with how _easy_ it would be, how quickly he could do it. His right hand twitched, a minute impulse reaction that he held back on.

 _Not_ _yet_.

"Do you live there?" The man randomly asked, catching Thomas off guard. Thomas blinked, before tilting his head slightly to the left in question, watching the man besides him carefully. Surprisingly, he had a broad scar on his arm - knife, Thomas immediately identified, and inflicted by someone else. The angle was awkward, but Thomas stared, pondering as to where it had come from.

"In New York." The man elaborated with a shrug, shifting to face Thomas, but it also meant that his right arm was blocked from view. "I mean, the lisence plate says you've bought the car from there, so..."

"Yeah, I live there." Thomas paused, looking at the man in consideration. He was relatively interesting, with sharp eyes that softened whenever he noticed Thomas notice him. Displaying false emotion, then, and one cleverly designed. Perhaps one fine-tuned with experience? He wondered why the man was trying to present a relaxed exterior despite being on guard. This would take longer than he expected, but Thomas still has patience. He decided to follow up the man's question with one of his own. "Where do you live?"

"Nowhere and everywhere." He answered, needlessly cryptic. On second thoughts - Thomas briefly reconsidered - all of his patience would dry up if he had to put up with comments like that. As if sensing the unimpressed tilt to Thomas's lips, he grinned at the window. "Though, I have an apartment in New York. Regardless, just drop me off wherever you're heading, and I'll find my way."

"It'll be about an hour to get to New York." Thomas replied flatly, keeping his voice neutral and trying not to think of Aaron Burr as he did so.

"I'm fine with waiting." The man replied, though the small frown he wore after he said that spoke of a man who was not used to waiting.

"Really?" Thomas inquired politely, lips curving up into a tiny smile at the open expression he got in return - curiosity, mixed with suspicion yet the vague sense of having knowledge that Thomas didn't. Normally, that would grate on Thomas's nerves, but he supposed the man was cautious enough to have observed something that Thomas had tried to keep hidden. If he had, he made no indication of discomfort, or a want to escape.

"Well, as long as you are." Something in his voice changed. He sounded more confident, less weary, and sent Thomas a sharp look. "However, I must ask why you have that knife in your left pocket."

Thomas's lips quirked up. This man was certainly something. Granted, he hadn't been especially cautious as to where he had placed his weapon of choice, due to the fact that he was sure there would be nobody would be there. He knew that his answer wouldn't fool someone as intelligent as he was, but it didn't stop him from trying. "Letter opener."

"A letter opener would have a smaller blade." The man contradicted, eyes focused on Thomas, then glanced down at the knife yeilded in his pocket. The hilt was dark, and nearly blended into the jeans that Thomas chose. The man met his eyes, and stated calmly, "Try again."

"You're smart." Thomas observed with a small smile, approving of the quick deductions he was able to make from a mere three minutes of interaction. "It's a damn shame I'm going to kill you."

"Is that so?" The man asked, lips quirked up into a small, sardonic smile. "Well, this is awkward. You see, I was planning on killing you."

Thomas remained quiet for several seconds. He returned his gaze to the road, using indicators to switch lanes despite the fact that nobody else was there to witness it. He noticed the rain soften in its fall, only sporadic, and considered mentioning this, but hastily decided against it. Thomas was stuck on searching for an adequate response, but his efforts folded fruitless. His pensive silence caused the man to glance over, brown eyes calculating. Thomas finally offered a small, bemused smile. "Ah, I see how that might be awkward."

"As do I." The man agreed, taking far less time to form a response. However, he gave a small frown at the next few words he spoke, pronouncing them quickly but with determination; no word he spoke was without purpose. "Unfortunately, I haven't researched the proper etiquette for this situation, and I am quite unprepared."

Thomas paused. Considered his words. There was always three options - the first was to kill this man, the second to let the man kill him. Neither sounded favorable, so he opted for the third. "I should be the one to kill you. After all, I am being polite in the respects that I allowed you into my car."

"It's rude of a host to murder his guest." The man retorted smoothly, as though it was important to remain polite despite the situation they now found themselves in.

"You're in my car, not in my house." Thomas answered, focusing in the road. The route he had planned in his mind - the one that conveniently passed through a secluded forest - was adjusted, and he chose a more direct, populated road. The man didn't seem to notice the shift in atmosphere, the calmness that came with having a plan and being in control.

"I am a guest, regardless." He responded with a small smile, grip on his backpack loosening. He frowned, before choosing to retrieve a green hoodie with 'King's College' printed across the chest. In response, Thomas hired the air conditioning slightly - even if it was already warm, the man was still cold, and Thomas took care to maintain a barely contradicting temperature, one that would gently cool in the summer and warm up in the winter. It would cause someone to subconsciously relax, and Thomas found this quite useful.

"You're a hitchhiker." Thomas quipped, and watched the way the man's lips quirked up. He pulled on the hoodie, surprisingly graceless for someone so measured.

"Fine, I'll concede that point." The man allowed with a shrug. It appeared he too, had decided that killing the other would be the least desirable option, and that caused Thomas's shoulders to relax slightly, despite the solid foundation of his plan. "I use a gun. You?"

"What do you think?" Thomas asked dryly, retrieving the knife he had commented on beforehand and placing it on the dashboard. It was an act of trust, and one that didn't go unnoticed.

The man's smile broadened, just barely, before a solemn mask was put in place. His eyes watched Thomas's expression carefully. "My method is quicker."

"Well, my method is far more attractive." Thomas replied, because it was.

"Hardly." The man damn near scoffed, waving a dismissive hand, but made no move to reach for his backpack. That was another sign of trust, and one that caused Thomas to offer a small smile and point out that it was observed. The man smiled back, before continuing, "Too showy, for me."

"Did you just call my M.O. showy?" Thomas briefly lifted his gaze from the long line of road to stare incredulously at the man besides him.

"What would you prefer?" He retorted, crossing his arms against his chest. He was pulling down at his sleeves, evidently a habit by the strain the cuffs of his sleeves bore. "Garish? Gaudy?"

"Elegant." Thomas responded lightly, opting to sound as offended as possible. "Sophisticated."

"Stupid." The man added significantly, arching an eyebrow as he shifted to fully face Thomas, an excited gleam to his eyes. Thomas supposed it was because he wouldn't be able to discuss this with many, and evidently wanted to. Most likely to brag  "Using a knife gives your victim a chance to get away."

"Not if you have half a brain and know what to do. Guns are easily traceable, and leave gunshot residue on clothing." Thomas mused, giving the man's clothing a conspicuous glance that caused the man to roll his eyes.

"Traces are easily erased." He argued, crossing his arms and putting on a half-decent show of being frustrated. He had an air of wry humor, one that indicated he was relaxing enough to drop his façades.

"You shouldn't leave traces in the first place." Thomas drawled lazily, unimpressed at the response. For a man so capable, Thomas would think that he could give a better argument.

"A trace makes the hunt exciting." The man shrugged collectedly, as though they were merely discussing the surprising turnabout if the weather, though his eyes held a near-nostalgic sheen that would alarm other men.

Thomas, however, was distinctively not  _other men_.

"Oh, so you're one of them." Thomas sighed, feigning a tired disappointment. "You're a man who wants the attention, craves the spotlight. Easily manipulated and consequently caught."

"You're a man that thinks what he is doing is beautiful." The man quipped, and Thomas bit his lip to stop himself from smiling at the way he said it. "How... _original_."

"What, and killing for fame is so unique?" Thomas retorted easily, raising an unimpressed eyebrow, though is eyes remained on the slowly darkening road.

"It gets the highlights faster." He muttered defensively, shuffling his feet, though his gaze remained on the line of concrete in front of them.

"It gets you arrested faster." Thomas added pointedly, causing the man to crack a tiny grin. Almost lazily, with some confidence, the man reached forward to grab onto the knife, examining it.

"Not if you're careful." The man replied, almost distracted, as he looked at the knife sheath, fingers gently mapping out the patterns ingrained in leather.

"Again, you use a gun." Thomas smirked at the small, exasperated sigh he was given in return, as though he was being difficult for the sake of being difficult. He continued. "I bet you it's a shitty pistol. I bet you don't even have a silencer."

"It's not a pistol." The man scowled, attempting to look far more frustrated than he actually was. He returned the knife, taking a surprising amount of caution to place it safely.

"Do you have a silencer?" Thomas asked, turning on the headlights to make driving easier. The rain had been put on pause, causing black tar to develop a slight gleam. The man watched him as he did so, seemingly thinking of a response to a simple question.

"...no." He eventually muttered, almost as though it was a reluctant admission. Thomas briefly considered asking if it was licenced, before deciding that it was too stupid of a question, and would do nothing but condescend him.

"Exactly." He instead smirked, turning down a familiar lane. It felt strange - sometimes, he would opt to go here when he was alone, if the day turned up unsuccessful. He never had company, and certainly not when the day was successful.

"You do seem like the pretentious fuck that would use a ten inch blade." The man quipped, tapping his fingers against the plastic of the dashboard, but made no move to pick up the object in question. When he talked, his eyes were fixed on Thomas, watching for a reaction.

"Twelve inches." Thomas corrected, adding a relatively bored note to his voice, though he took care to let the man know that Thomas was watching him just as much as he was being observed.

The man offered a tiny, almost mischievous grin. "Compensating for something?"

"Want to check?" Thomas retorted. The man laughed, surprised but pleased at Thomas's response, and made no move to form hurried or awkward denials.

Thomas found that rather interesting.

He allowed the comfortable silence to settle like a cloak, relaxing and warm in its amiability. He rarely had this companionship, finding most people relatively banal. There were only few names and faces he could conjure that had interested him - James Madison, with his sharp watchfulness and careful delivery, or Lafayette, with his mischievous intelligence and (sometimes alarming) innuendos that, on occasion, Thomas had difficulty catching up with.

"How many people have you killed?" The man asked, seemingly at random, but Thomas could tell there had been a few minutes or so on how to word it and thought upon Thomas's reaction.

Thomas shrugged, seemingly uncaring in his answer. "About twenty."

"Twenty?" The man repeated, surprised, his mask completely slipping to reveal bemused impressment. He seemed to pause, as though he was considering replacing the fallen façade, but opted against it, remaining as open and honest as possible.

Thomas sighed, putting in a show of being as uninterested as possible, but was privately pleased at the reaction he received. "Well, twenty-five, but who's counting?"

"Jesus." The man gave a low whistle, nodding twice in stunned approval, eyebrows raised. "And you haven't been caught?"

"I move around." Thomas mused, and briefly chose to reflect on all the places he had been. He moved around a lot, for someone his age, if James was to be trusted - and he was.

"I can tell." The man smiled, then tilted his head slightly, mimicking a confused puppy. "Where are you from, Virginia?"

"Monticello, born and raised." Thomas offered, allowing a bit of pride to shine through his voice. Naturally, this caused the man to scoff, rolling his eyes. Thomas smirked at his response, before continuing. "How many have you killed?"

"Six. Well, I was going to have seven." The man then proceeded to glare at Thomas, as though it was his fault he wasn't currently bleeding out from a bullet wound.

"Six." Thomas drawled, stretching out the syllable until it could break. "Weak. As the more experienced murderer, I believe I should have killing rights."

"I have a right to learn." He said defensively, crossing his arms

"You also have the right to remain silent, though something tells me you aren't going to evoke that any time soon." Thomas quipped, taking care to do so with a tiny smile that would soften the blow.

His attempt at placation was seemingly needless, as the man gave a small, surprised laugh, sending Thomas an endearingly amused smile. "Are you a psychologist as well as a serial killer?"

"No, I'm a politician." Thomas answered, then grimaced, preparing himself for an incredibly negative response.

"Aren't all politicians serial killers?" The man asked with a grin that indicated he didn't truly believe that statement either.

"Oh, how edgy of you to say that." Thomas looked at him in mock-admiration. In response, the man swore colorfully at him, though there was a teasing shine to his eyes.

"It's just something I've heard from my work." He offered, shrugging in a half-hearted apology. Thomas frowned. It was almost like the opening line for a morbid joke that people laughed at but nobody found funny. _Two serial killers-slash-politicians meet, and therefore become friends_. Thomas supposed he was willing to wait however long that was necessary for the punchline, since the company he was keeping wasn't bad.

There was a pause.

Thomas frowned, glancing at him. He began connecting dotes. His accent was curious - certainly not from New York - and the fact that he had graduated from _Kings College_ was a small giveaway. Burr had often complained about a man who he kept meeting, and had apparently all but tackled Burr when he was trying to drink in a bar. "You wouldn't happen to be Alexander Hamilton?"

"You know me." The man said, sounding pleased, beaming at Thomas in response. Thomas considered sparing a snide comment about narcissism, but thought better of it.

"Jesus Christ. Of  _all_  the people." Thomas almost laughed, but was able to refrain from doing so, instead wiping a tired hand across his face.

"Who are you?" Hamilton asked, eyes fixed on him, evidently trying to deduce who he was, but hitting a brick wall. Thomas supposed that a lot of Virginians opted to become politicians.

" _Life, liberty and a pursuit of happiness_." Thomas quoted dryly, allowing the slight sardonic slant access to his smile.

Hamilton's eyes widened, almost comically, and he sat up straighter. A small, incredulous grin formed. He glanced at the knife, before back at Thomas. "Thomas Jefferson?"

"The one and only." Thomas answered flatly, though he couldn't help but be amused by the response. From what Burr had told him about Hamilton, the fact that he currently wasn't listing off all the reasons his ideals were wrong or threatening him with grevious bodily harm would be considered a minor miracle at worst.

"Damn." Hamilton let out a low whistle. He was surprised, again, but was still pleased, despite being nearly completely opposed to Thomas. He picked up Thomas's knife again, resuming the gentle pattern tracing. "If I kill you, it would be a high-profile case."

"What is it with you and fame, Hamilton?" Thomas questioned, facing Hamilton to watch his expressions change from surprise to confusion to amusement.

"Hamilton?" He repeated, raising an eyebrow.  "Thomas, both of us know that the other kills people. I think we can skip past the formalities."

"Fine." Thomas sighed, rolling his eyes, and taking great care to overpronounce the next few words. "What is it with you and fame, _Alex_?"

"The spotlight." Alex answered, without any hesitation. His voice was warm - gentle, even. "The attention on me. People whispering, knowing _what_ I am and _what_ I do, but not knowing _who_."

Thomas spared him a glance, surprised to see that Alex was watching him for his reaction. Thomas grinned softly. "That's weird, even by my standards."

"Your standards are rather low, then." Alex quipped. He frowned at Thomas, still tracing the knife sheath, almost subconsciously. "What is it with you and beauty?"

"I appreciate beautiful things." Thomas shrugged, uncaring. This was true enough - he liked to surround himself in nice things, ones with quality. The people he surrounded himself with were not held to exceptions and lower standards.

"And you see death as beautiful?" Alex asked with a frown. Yet again, the knife was returned, but this time, he reached for his backpack, retrieving a small magnum revolver that he hastily put on safety, before it joined the knife.

"Very." Thomas agreed, watching the entire movement with an air of amusement. He was mildly surprised that Alex wasn't arguing with him about their job, seemingly separating his work life from his considerably less legal activities. Thomas was sure that somewhere in the distance, Aaron Burr would be wiping a tear of pride away.

Alex huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back. The bag rejoined the floor. "Now  _that's_  weird."

"Sometimes I see the beauty of their life outways the beauty of their death. Sometimes, I let them live."

"Yet you keep close tabs on anyone who lives, because they are the worthy of life." Alex said, though his head was tilted, and indicated that there was a note of mild speculation around this statement.

"You're wasted as a politician." Thomas replied, watching Alex frown as he heard this. He continued. "You would make a better psychologist."

"No, I've just spent most of my life reading about people like _us_." Alex shrugged, putting emphasis on the last word. It appeared, that for all of his bravado, Alex wanted someone to talk to that wouldn't run at the mention of murder. It showed that, however impulsive he appeared to be, there was still calculated thought behind each action and word, and that he didn't merely say whatever he wanted whenever. At least, Thomas assumed, most of the time.

"Is it because you want to copy their ideas, or because you want to see how they got famous?" Thomas asked, genuinely interested for Alex's response, phrasing it as a harsher comment then intended. Thankfully, Alex didn't appear to be offended, and answered almost immediately.

"Both. Nothing like the fear of the reappearance from a killer that got away." Alex stated with a small smile, almost distantly, as though he was thinking about something else. Thomas allowed the silence to settle like a fresh layer of snow - peaceful, but to be treated with caution in case of accidental disruption.

Alex shifted. He wasn't used to the silence, and wanted to break it for familiarity's sake, but also wanted to maintain the calmness it offered.

"You are a strange man, Alexander Hamilton. Obsessed with popularity and public interest, but cautious when it is directed upon you." Thomas eventually mused, ending the quiet, and gave Alex a relatively wry smile. "Some might say you were shy."

" _Shy_?" Alex repeated, eyebrows raised. The darkness had slowly crept in, adding a slight shine to Alex's eyes, and a shadow cast against his face that Thomas distantly thought brought out the lighter colors of his hair.

"You avoid  _direct_  attention." Thomas retorted easily, glancing away, trying to remove the thought but consequently made _not thinking_ about it far more difficult. It was fortunate that the little diner he favored had such late hours.

"Yeah, but-" Alex cut himself off, before frowning. He sent a sharp look at Thomas. "Why are you pulling over?"

"I have money." Thomas deadpanned, before gesturing to a small, sixties-esque diner. "There is a roadside diner. I want coffee. Use your intelligence, Alex."

"Right, because if a serial killer I'm hitching a ride off suddenly pulls over to the side of the road, my first thought should be, ' _well, he_ must _be visiting that diner_.'" Alex retorted flatly, and Thomas conceded his point with a smile.

"Such sarcasm." Thomas sighed, shaking his head in mock-disapproval. "You're lucky I don't kill you."

"And why don't you?" Alex asked, the hint of a challenge lighting up his eyes. It was a mild test, to see how Thomas would respond, and Thomas was not about to disappoint.

"Your life is too beautiful to end." Thomas shrugged, opting for the most truthful answer. This caused Alex to smile, color rising to his cheeks, and he ducked his head before regaining composure.

"An oddly charming compliment." Alex eventually offered, still smiling. 

"I suppose." Thomas shrugged. "The men I kill are usually unpleasant."

"I'm glad I don't fall into that category, then." Alex said.

"As am I." With this, Thomas opened the car door, with far more ease than usual due to the vacant roads. He was able to open Alex's door for him (much to Alex's amused yet poorly concealed contentment), and they walked together towards the diner that Thomas often frequented, cheerfully dubbed _The Red Coat_.

He held the door open for Alex, following close behind when Alex selected a booth, eyes evaluating, before he deemed it suitable. Thomas almost laughed at the display, but was able to narrowly refrain from doing so. There were roughly six other people present - including a waitress and a chef - so Thomas allowed himself to relax in the state of inconspicuousness this gave him.

Almost immediately, a tall girl with blonde hair and blue eyes approached them, smiling as softly as possible. She had recognised him as a regular, and was therefore far more welcoming. "What can I get you?"

Thomas gave her a small smile in response, observing the way Alex tensed. "Two cups of coffee, if you please."

"Of course." The woman grinned back, a light dusting of color blotching against her cheeks. She had barely even glanced at Alex throughout the entire exchanged.

"I don't like her." Alex muttered, watching her leave carefully, as though she was a hidden danger that Alex needed to be aware of. The girl didn't notice his glare, and Thomas supposed that was a small mercy. He nudged Alex to get his attention, before raising an eyebrow.

He already knew the answer to the question, but still asked it. "How come?"

"She is needlessly flirting with you." Alex shrugged, busying himself by sorting out the varied packets of condiments by color.

"Needlessly?" Thomas repeated, disrupting the ordering by adding a salt packet to the mayonnaise section, just for Alex to glare up at him and gingerly correct it.

"It's obvious you're rich by your clothing, so naturally you will leave a sizable tip. Also - correct me if I'm wrong - but you're a regular here. Some of the staff know you by first name, which was why she was so quick to come over." Alex shrugged again, forcing the indifferent note in his voice. His words were rapid fire, and Thomas was once again struck with how quick Alex could be, how observant.

"Perhaps she's after something different to money." Thomas retorted, watching Alex as he finished his meticulous ordering. Alex didn't reply for a few seconds, scowling at nothing, before he peered up at Thomas.

"Are you interested?" Alex asked, still frowning. He glanced over to the left, as though the girl would materialize, before looking back.

"If all my victims are men, Alexander, who do you think I would date?" Thomas questioned dryly, leaning back and crossing his arms. This caused Alex to sigh, rolling his eyes as though Thomas was being needlessly pedantic.

"You could be bisexual." Alex pointed out, though he seemed to relax slightly at the idea of Thomas being uninterested in women.

"Like you?" Thomas asked.

"Like me." Alex confirmed with a small smile. "Although, I must confess, I don't find stabbing very romantic."

"I don't kill men I date, or have dated." Thomas shrugged, watching Alex carefully for his reaction. His eyes held a more calculating edge, as though he was mentally weighing something up, before he put on an impassive mask.

"Who do you date?" He questioned, trying to sound casual, but missing the mark by several meters. Thomas didn't mention it, as he has weary of scaring Alex off.

"Men with intelligence. Men who can keep up with me in both my lives." Thomas said, and then paused.

He gave Alex a significant look.

Alex seemed amused by his not-quite indication of interest, and he chose to lean forward, arms crossed and resting against the table, eyes bright with mirth. "They must be rare to find."

"I've only found one before, but  _damn it_ , he was so  _boring_."

"Careful, it sounds as though you have been dating Aaron Burr." Alex shrugged, and he seemed far more confident after Thomas's words.

"Never." Thomas shook his head, grimacing slightly to underline his point. He sent Alex a small smile. "However, I am surprised that you know Burr."

"Small world, huh." Alex offered with a slight grin on his face.

"A weird one, at that." Thomas mused. He supposed it wasn't every day this sort of event happened, and certainly not to him. Yet, here he was, sitting in a diner with a man he thought he'd never like, having a civil conversation after mutual murder attempts.

"Here's your coffee." The girl smiled coyly, the loud clack of her high heels informing them of her arrival before her voice did. "If you need anything, you can just ask me."

"Thank you, Jessica." Thomas replied, not even having to glance down at the name tag. He watched as Alex bit his lip, eyes directed unwaveringly to his coffee mug, tense as a bowstring. "However, I believe my boyfriend would like some sugar, if that's available."

The girl - to put it simply - looked incredibly disappointed, slightly embarrassed, even, but regardless, she slammed on a professional smile. She glanced at Alex as though she had only just seen him, with something almost like evaluation in her eyes, but seemed sightly dissuaded by Alex's equally cold and calculating response. She nodded, mostly to herself, before looking back at Thomas. "Of course."

With that, she hastily walked away, and Alex didn't check to make sure she went.

"Boyfriend?" Alex asked, raising an eyebrow. He hadn't corrected him, and wasn't even complaining, merely looking amused. This was always a good sign.

"Jessica is half-decent, and that's rare to come by." Thomas stated, almost uncaring in his evaluation. "I would prefer not to hear about her murder in the news."

"I suppose." Alex shrugged, fingers wrapping gently around plain porcelain. He seemed unfazed by the heat of boiling water, eyes soft directed down - it could almost be considered that he was bashful, if it were anyone else. Thomas shrugged, sipping at his coffee and enjoying the rich taste. The price was worth it in tenfold - it was rare to find decent coffee, especially in diners.

"You said that you keep close tabs on people you let live." Alex frowned, continuing the conversation.

"Technically, you said that, but you're correct." Thomas amended, smiling at the unimpressed look he was given in response. Alex paused for a few seconds, before sighing 

"Who?" He inquired, pulling at the cuff of his hoodie sleeve, eyes directed downwards, before he looked up and met Thomas's eyes.

"James Madison." Thomas offered, unsurprised to see the spark of recognition that flickered across Alex's face. "Lafayette."

"I'm glad you didn't kill Lafayette." Alex said. Even though the diner was near deserted, he still kept his voice low, leaning close enough for Thomas to hear him.

"A friend?" Thomas questioned. 

"A roommate." Alex grinned in response to Thomas's surprised expression. Thomas frowned - when he and Lafayette were friends, he couldn't recall Lafayette mentioning any roommates, though he supposed Lafayette, for all of his friendliness and support, was quite a private person, even to people he trusted.

"Damn." Thomas said quietly, because there was little else to say. Alex nodded at his response, quietly adding his own ' _damn, indeed_ '.

"How have we never met before?" Alex asked. He kept himself surprisingly still. For a man so restless, Thomas was taken aback at how focused he could be.

"We would've met eventually." Thomas mused, glancing down from Alex's eyes for a brief second, before looking back up. Alex frowned.

"How so?"

"I've transferred to Washington's office." Thomas almost smiled at the stunned look he was given in response. "We should've met a week or so from today."

Alex didn't respond for several seconds. He slipped out of coffee, then grimaced, returning it to the table. "This is the strangest day I've ever had."

"Stranger than your first kill?" Thomas inquired, lowering his voice and raising an eyebrow. Alex glanced behind him, before glancing back after the person closest to them gave a boisterous laugh at something her companion had said.

"Not quite, then." He corrected. There was an expectant pause, before Alex continued. "Charles Lee. You?"

"James Reynolds." Thomas replied. Alex's expression flashed with deep approval.

"Good. Reynolds was a dick." Alex stated flatly, in a voice that meant no room to question. Thomas was going to reply in agreement, before he paused.

The waitress was returning with sugar. Without a word, Alex reached over to hold onto Thomas's hand. Alex's hand was warm in his own; slightly calloused from hard work, yet far softer than his rough personality would indicate.

"Thank you." He smiled at the girl, who offered a small, hesitant smile in response, before hurrying away. She didn't glance back, even though, judging by her tension, she felt Alex's eyes watch her leave. 

"Was that needed?" Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow. He didn't move away, not made any indication that he wanted to do so.

"Yes." Alex cleared his throat, trying to look as confident as possible in this decision. "If you don't want her dead, then you better get used to me holding your hand."

"You could've just asked." Thomas mused, the pad of his thumb brushing over the back of Alex's hand. He didn't mention how  _right_ it felt, to have Alex's hand in his own, or the comfort given by the warm touch.

Alex's face colored a little, as he seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Well, there's no fun in that."

"Whatever you say." Thomas quipped, knowing full well that this was one of Alex's more spontaneous actions; Alex was the type of man that would act first, and think later, and had therefore tried to dissuade the girl from showing any more interest in Thomas by underlining his stance in Thomas's life.

Normally, jealousy was one of the worst feelings someone could have, but in this case, it was unwarranted; Alex was secure in Thomas's interests - or, in regards with women, lack thereof.

Alex, however, seemed vastly uncomfortable with Thomas's watchful state on him, as he gestured vaguely to their cups, his blush darkening attractively. "How much did this cost?"

"Eight dollars each." Thomas answered. Alex's eyebrows raised, and he looked at the coffee in something akin to suspicion.

"Jesus." Alex muttered, shaking his head in amusing disapproval, and awkwardly reached to fetch the sugar. Thomas's lips quirked up. Alex could have moved his left hand from Thomas's, making the action far more easier and natural, but instead he chose to remain where he was.

"It's good coffee." Thomas replied, slightly defensive. Alex bit back a smile, and merely sent him a look, one that stated unwaveringly deep, profound disappointment.

"You drive for roughly half an hour to get expensive coffee, then drive back." A small smirk took hold of his lips. "That's the most pretentious thing I've ever heard."

"Better than shitty instant coffee." Thomas retorted, and ignored the thought that Alex's arrogance, whilst undeniably frustrating, was also somehow appealing. 

"Instant coffee is delightful." Alex argued.

Thomas looked at him for a while, before sighing deeply, feigning weary lamenting. "There's no accounting for taste."

"At least, not where you're concerned." Alex countered sharply, eyes bright.

"I would be offended, but I know better than to take the opinion of an instant coffee drinker." Thomas quipped. It was nice, to debate like this; half-hearted, easy, and without absolute opinions being questioned.

Alex rolled his eyes, muttering a retaliation under his breath, before offering a small, hesitant smile. "Should we go?"

"As soon as you take back the eight dollars you thought you were subtle about leaving." Thomas retorted. Alex flushed, and almost guiltily pulled his hand away, leaving Thomas to grieve the loss of warmth.

"What eight dollars?" Alex asked innocently, missing the mark by a decent handful of miles. Thomas raised an eyebrow, and gave a sharp glance at Alex's cup that definitely did not have eight dollars stowed underneath it. Alex was able to maintain the façade for a mere handful of seconds, before giving a defeated sigh.

"Fine." Alex scowled, retrieving the money with a dramatic display of reluctance. Thomas bit back a laugh that he knew Alex wouldn't appreciate, opting to leave thirty dollars and cover both their orders and tip.

Alex led the path outside, creating rather exaggerated theatre of holding open the door for him and allowing him to pass. In turn, Thomas gave grin, thanking Alex for his chivalry.

The walk to the car - parked strategically at the side of the road, away from direct sights of the diner - was in amenable silence, Thomas occasionally nudging Alex to earn a glare in response, or Alex nudging him back and merely gaining an amused smirk.

"Are you planning on killing me?" Thomas asked, as soon as he was driving, although knowing the answer.

"No." Alex frowned, shaking his head slightly. "It's strange. Normally, when I decide to kill someone, I don't go back on it."

"You don't have much experience." Thomas reasoned, just to see the flick of unimpressed irritation pass through Alex's expression.

"Six isn't a small number." Alex muttered, crossing his arms. Thomas shrugged, offering Alex a grin.

"When you get to twenty-five, it will be." He replied breezily. It was roughly midnight - vehicles travelling up and down the road were nonexistent, and despite the opportunity to drive as quickly and recklessly as solitude allowed, Thomas abided strictly to the rules of the road.

Again, companionable quiet fell, settling comfortably, as though they had known eachother and were fine with pauses that would make strangers grimace. The sky was completely dark, save from pinpricks of flickering light, and a pale, circular glow.

"I'm glad we met like this." Alex said quietly. His eyes were directed at the window, watching the world pass. It was so quiet that Thomas had almost missed it.

"Really?" He inquired, raising an eyebrow. He passed one of his unofficial landmarks - a rusting statue dubbed 'The Pointing Man' for reasons suitable, and calculated roughly ten minutes before arriving home.

"If we met any differently, I'd probably hate you." Alex mused, before risking a soft smile. "I'd have no idea what I'm missing out on."

"A sarcastic serial killer with a pretentious choice in coffee?" Thomas offered dryly, and Alex flushed.

"You know what I mean." He muttered, ducking his head in a vain attept to hide the rising color. Thomas didn't bother to disguise the smirk.

"I do." He agreed, but softened his expression so that Alex wouldn't take offence. Alex rolled his eyes, but didn't argue back.

"Are we still heading to New York?" He asked, resuming his watchfulness of the outside world.

"Yeah." Thomas answered. He had relaxed, surprised yet comfortable in the familiarity he had achieved with someone who was, a mere hour or so ago, a complete stranger.

He was caught off guard when Alex asked the next question.

"Are you in a relationship?" 

Thomas paused. He raised an eyebrow, completely startled, but scrambled for a smooth recovery. He spared Alex an unimpressed look. "A bit forward."

"Not at all." Alex contradicted, shaking his head, and Thomas paused. He wasn't in any relationship - hadn't been in a handful of years - yet his hesitance was born from the unrepentant expression Alex was wearing. He was planning something, yet Thomas couldn't find it within himself to care.

"No." Thomas stated, keeping his eyes on the road, yet knowing the small smile of satisfaction that would form on Alex's lips.

"I'm not, either." Alex offered, after a few seconds of pause, and Thomas decided against making a comment about subtlety.

"How old were you?" He asked instead, garnering a small frown of confusion at his sudden subject change. "When you made your first kill, as in."

"Nineteen." Alex said quietly.

"And only six?"

"I'm selective." Alex shrugged, uncaring. This surprised Thomas - at the fact that Alex was able to show a degree of patience in this. "How about you?"

"Twenty five." Thomas replied, smiling at the raised eyebrows he was given in response.

"Damn. Relatively recent, then." Alex mused, glancing at Thomas with something akin to approval. "How have you not been caught?"

"Luck and the ability to make things look far more personal than they actually are." Thomas said, far more wryly than he had intended.

"Yeah, and you've probably downloaded all of the available series of _Law and Order_." Alex added, and grinned at Thomas's small huff of amusement at an accurate comment.

"That... is a contributing factor." Thomas agreed lightly, trying to sound as though he was reluctant in giving said information away.

"Nerd." Alex beamed at him, smile bright, and Thomas returned it. The rest of the drive to Thomas's house was in silence, Thomas occasionally smiling at Alex's restlessness, or the habit he had developed of picking up Thomas's knife and placing it back. It was almost a shame, to have the car ride end so quickly.

"We've arrived." Thomas observed quietly, gesturing to a rather quaint building, relatively lonely compared to deeper in the city. Alex followed Thomas's gesture, before his eyes widened.

"Damn. You own a house?" Alex asked, a grudgingly impressed playing at the lilt in his voice. Thomas shrugged, inwardly preaning at Alex's admiration.

"I own several." Thomas retorted with a small smirk, one that caused a small, derisive sigh in return.

"Obviously, you own several." Alex muttered, though his tone was far too light to have taken genuine offence. When they exited the car, Thomas made a point of leaving his knife behind, and Alex seemed to believe that he was subtle about leaving his backpack and gun. Thomas didn't mention it.

"You were the one that pointed out that I'm rich." Thomas quipped. The air was cold, sharp, yet Thomas was already awake from the coffee given.

"Someone owning several houses is a foreign concept." Alex mused on his defense, and Thomas smiled.

"To you." He shrugged. They came to a hold outside of his house, Alex's eyes fixed on the door, regarding it carefully, and Thomas watching him.

"Well, this is your house." Alex said, hands resting in pockets. He glanced down at his feet, before back up and meeting Thomas's eyes. They were close, and Thomas could feel the warmth that Alex provided.

"Well observed." Thomas drawled, lazily, and color rose to Alex's cheeks. They stood there for several seconds, unable to look away, the eye contact dizzyingly intense.

Then, Thomas glanced down at Alex's lips.

This caused Alex's breath to hitch softly, loud enough for Thomas to hear. Alex's lips parted, just barely, but no matter how intoxicating the invitation was, Thomas waited.

The tension was palpable. Alex's eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, yet neither of them closed the distance. Alex flushed, before he quickly said, "If you want to kiss me, then just ask."

"Really?" Thomas inquired. Alex's blush darkened, and he glanced down at the floor. Thomas carefully tilted Alex's chin up, so they were making eye contact, lips merely centimeters from meeting. His lips curled up into a knowing smirk. "I find that it's far more _satisfying_ to read between the lines."

Alex's eyes darkened with want.

"I'll see you around, Alexander." Thomas said, glancing down at Alex's lips one more time. Alex watched him move in complete silence, breath slightly laboured, seemingly in a trance.

Thomas smirked again.

He took care to leave his door open.

There was a few seconds of hesitation, before Alex followed.

**Author's Note:**

> hello
> 
> im gay


End file.
